Appropriate, As Always
by Sweet Lunacy
Summary: Sweeney's thoughts on Mrs. Lovett..
1. Appropriate, As Always

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...sadly**

It was the eyes. Those damned eyes of hers. They were always so expressive. Now, my eyes, they don't hold emotion, but hers...Damn her and her eyes. I won't deny the fact that they were pretty. They're beautiful, captivating, hypnotic, even. I hated her. Yes, I hated her. Not just because of her eyes, but for other reasons. For one thing, she's so damn patient. To everything I say I want to do, her answer is "Wait, love, wait." That's another thing...her little pet names. Granted, I call her things like "pet", "love", "my pet" and "my love", but when she does it, it's so much more annoying.

She's constantly touching me, invading my personal space. No matter what time of day, she'll walk up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders, as if I don't notice. I ignore her, but it still makes me mad. If the woman wasn't so useful, I'd just slit her throat. She's definitely loyal. No denying that..Once, she had somehow, as I was sleeping on the couch, managed to lay next to me, and the next morning when she woke up, I knew she was trying to pretend she was still asleep, but I had felt her breathing change. She then asked me, if I had been awake for hours, why I was still laying there, to which I replied, "When I know, I'll certainly tell you, Mrs. Lovett."

I'd never seen her eyes light up the way they did then. All it took was one simple sentence, one remark, to make her eyes light up to the point where I wanted to take her throat in my hands and apply pressure until the light faded from her damned eyes. I curse the day I met the woman. She's been nothing but a thorn in my side from day one. She'll probably read this and figure everything out. The main thing that bothers me is the way she assumes that I care about her in any way. She's so oblivious that it's just sad. As if I could ever care for her. Can't she take a hint? You would think the way I constantly ignore her would make her back off, but no. That just makes her more persistent.

I have to give her credit though. She's no fool. She is, as the title of this says, eminently practical, and yet appropriate, as always. She's a strong woman. She's never run away when faced with danger or even near-death situations. She's endured more than most have, and it's only made her stronger. Even with all that though, it still doesn't make her any less annoying. The way she constantly chatters on, even if she knows full well I'm not listening...It's enough to make a person insane.


	2. The Darkness Within

The Darkness Within

As I've said, it was her eyes that vexed me the most. I'll never forget my first impression of her, the first time I saw her...she was lamenting and clawing onto the darkness that poured out of every event that she had found herself in. Of course, in her eyes, there were elements of the darkness that were beautiful. No matter how hard I try, I cannot figure the woman out. There are times when I want to murder her in her sleep, and then there are times when I can almost see myself caring for her. Almost.

Once, when I temporarily lost all control and nearly killed her, she genuinely surprised me. By the time I finally calmed down, she looked at me, her damned eyes shining with relief and said "I knew there was some sanity left in you!". She may have been right, but there was not enough to return the embrace she gave me. Irritated, I pushed her away, nearly making her hit her head on the wall behind her. If she wasn't so loyal, I can almost guarantee she'd be dead by now.

I've never met anyone like her. As much as I hate to admit it, she fascinates me. The way her mind works, the things she says, the way her eyes can say more than anything else. If she knew I even spared her a thought, she'd never let me hear the end of it. Never. Damned woman...I hate her.


	3. Beyond Belief

Beyond Belief

Why is it that some people annoy you more than others? Take _her _for example...She gets under my skin so badly that I often want to die myself just to be rid of her. Constantly hovering over my shoulder, constantly trying to gain my affection, as if it could ever be hers. The woman has annoyed and fussed over me to the point where I am losing what's left of my sanity. Her constant nagging that I should sleep, that I should eat, and stop dwelling on the past...Makes me want to wring her pretty little neck..

It would be very easy. All I'd have to do is play with her a bit, toy with her. It wouldn't be hard to gain her trust. Say something to her now and then, throw a glance or two in her direction, maybe return her embrace, make her think she matters to me...The thought of her touching me, knowing exactly what she wants me to do, is enough to make me sick. The mere thought of knowing she'd do her best to make sure every part of her is touching me—her hands, her slim white fingers running through my hair, her lips against mine, her body touching mine—Just thinking about it makes me want to kill her all the more. Of course, it would all be worth it in the end. I'd finally be rid of her at last.

There's no way for her to deny what she wants me to do. It's very obvious. I can see it in her eyes. Those damned brown eyes of hers...The gestures, the little sighs of happiness when I'm near, the constant hovering...it doesn't go unnoticed by me, despite what she may think. Why can't she just die and leave me be? Will I ever be free of her? Can I have peace at last?


	4. Far Away

Far Away

Something happened earlier. She scared me. I never thought someone like _her _could scare me. I thought maybe her mind had completely shattered. There's an interesting story behind it, and I suppose I'll explain. If I don't, no one will understand why she scared me. That would defeat the purpose of writing, now wouldn't it?

I was all set to kill her. I was going to end her life tonight. I had everything planned out, everything. Nothing was going to save the bitch, nothing. So I swept her in a mad waltz, dancing her around the room, willing myself to wait, as she often advised. I almost laughed at how trustingly she clung to me, her face buried in my chest. I would have thought she had been near me enough to know I could not be trusted so readily.

Not that I was complaining, it just made my work easier. I expected her to put up a fight, but not once did I expect her to beg. She never begged for anything, I had to admit that much. She seemed calm, as if she was far away in her own world, which she undoubtedly was.

Somehow, she sensed what I was planning to do. That had not been part of my plan. I never thought she would catch on until it was too late. She only said one word, one simple word that I never thought I would hear her say at a time like this. "Wait" was all she said, as she often did. Her fight had begun, and I was disappointed. I had expected more of her. I whispered the last words I expected to say to her: "I'll slit your pretty little throat from ear to ear that way you'll be smiling for me for all eternity."

Still, she clung to me, telling me to wait. I rolled my eyes at her ignorance. All I could think to say was: "If not now, when? After a marriage, or on our wedding night?" It was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes brightened, and she whispered, "Would you truly marry me?" I was surprised at the depth of her affection. Not even I had guessed she cared this much. I could think of only one reason to rid her of this: "If I needed to kill, would you be my victim?"

Damn..Wrong thing to say..She whispered her reply: "I've been your victim all my life, love." I cringed. That damned woman...I had one last chance. Kill her while she thought I cared. Using my last chance, I kissed her roughly. She reacted the way I expected, the way I'd hoped. She relaxed completely in my arms, a small moan, followed by that same sigh of happiness I had heard so often, escaping her lips. I felt her hands move down to my waist, and I cringed inwardly. I didn't realize what she had done until it was too late.

The blade of my knife was pressed against my own throat. I nearly laughed at the irony. "Well done, my pet." were the first words I could offer. What the poor woman didn't know was that I always carried a spare. I flicked it open, holding the blade to her throat. Shock crept into her eyes, and I almost felt sorry for her, almost. "How long did you know I loved you and used me?" she said softly. I had to admire her strength. I nearly growled my reply, my voice low and rough: "Too long.".

She began to cry, something I had never seen her do when faced with danger. I assumed it was because of her thoughts plaguing her, and soon found I was right. She lashed out at me, screaming in her pain: "I wish I had never met you!" The blade clattered to the floor as it slipped from her hand. Here was my chance...Somehow, I could not bring myself to do it. I silently cursed myself, wondering why I was unable to kill the one woman that vexed me beyond belief. What is wrong with me?


	5. Lies

Lies

Why? Why didn't I kill her when I had the chance? I should have done it. I had the perfect opportunity, and I let it pass me by. Late last night, I entered her room, not knowing what I was doing there. It was as if I had been led there by some invisible force, and I was unable to stop it. I watched her sleep in the shadows, waiting to see how long it would take before she realized I was there...not long. She stirred, and I knew she could sense my presence. She whispered my name, and I stepped out of the shadows.

I approached her bed and sat down beside her. She looked surprised, to say the least, and I couldn't say I blamed her. "Calm down pet. Fear doesn't suit you. Believe me, you'd know of I was going to kill you." I assured her. I reached down and touched her face gently, enjoying the confusion evident in her eyes. I leaned closer to her, not at all surprised when she pulled away. "It's not proper," was all she said. I laughed softly at this. Of all the things to be worried about, she was worried about her reputation? "Tell me, my pet, what does it matter?" I whispered softly, my lips dangerously close to her neck. I turned her to me and kissed her roughly. It was enough. She wrapped her arms around me and I pushed her back down on the bed, laughing inwardly when she pulled away suddenly. No doubt she had felt the cold blade of my knife against her chest.

She looked up at me, and I smiled, never expecting what she would do next. She took my wrist in her hand and pressed the blade to her. The sight of her blood...was more than I could take. Her blood was perfect, the perfect shade of crimson. I put my lips down to the stream of blood, kissing her, biting her, wanting to taste more. She ran her slim white fingers through my hair and soon her hands were at my waist. I pulled her hands away and placed the blade in her hand again.

"Cut," I instructed. To my surprise, she did as I asked. I leaned down to her and reveled in the sweet taste of her blood yet again. As I did so, she reached up, pulling me closer, her hands at my waist once more. I held her wrists, and she looked at me, the longing clear in her eyes. "I want you," she whispered, "Let me taste your skin." I marveled at her bravery. "Soon, my love," I lied. She held the blade in her hand, pleading with her voice: "Now. I'll do anything. Every drop of my blood is yours. Please." I considered it for a moment. Not even her blood could make me want her. I took the knife from her hand and stood. "Not even your blood can make me want you." I said, walking away and shutting the door behind me. I should have killed her when I had the chance...Damn.


End file.
